


Wolf and Lamb

by no_one_in_particular



Series: Into the Wild [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Dark!Tony, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_one_in_particular/pseuds/no_one_in_particular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Avengers kink meme prompt: Tony feels like Steve is teasing him, so he backs him up against a wall and lets loose with a stream of filth that has Steve writhing and eventually coming in his pants without Tony ever touching him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolf and Lamb

_Once he's given a chance to relax and get settled, Steve discovers how much he enjoys his body. Before, there was a war and so much to be done and he didn't have time to stop and think about it, to feel it. Then he woke up after the ice and everything was strange and everyone he knew was gone and maybe there wasn't a war, but it was close enough. Finally, there was victory and moving into Tony's mansion and time._

_It's odd at first. His body was always the enemy while he was growing up. Any joy he had was despite it, not because of it. Now, however, his body will do things he never imagined. He can run and jump and fight. Hell, he can stretch, like a cat, feeling each and every joint pull and strain as he holds his breath, then go lax as he exhales slowly, without having a coughing fit. That, in and of itself, is kind of a miracle to him._

_In the mornings, he runs, long runs that take him all over the city. He comes back loose-limbed and dripping sweat as he stands in the mansion's kitchen and guzzles brightly neon sports drinks. His shirt always fails to cover his belly when he lifts his arm because he can't get used to clothing this body, and he's constantly yanking at it with the hand not holding the bottle. Tony leans against the counter on the other side of the room, coffee mug steaming in his hand, and looks at him._

_He works out every day in the gym. He punches the heavy bag, jumps rope. He lifts weights, marveling at the bar in his hands, how easily he pushes the weight skyward. Tony uses the machines, walks on the treadmill or straddles the bench of one of the stack machines, and his eyes slide back and forth over Steve's body._

_He roughhouses with Thor and Clint as they watch movies in the evening. They snatch snacks and shoot spit wads at each other. Occasionally, one or more of them rolls (or is thrown) over the back of the couch, landing on the thick carpet with an, "oof". That's when the wrestling begins in earnest, complete with noogies and wedgies and pinning each other to the floor. Thor missed out on these things, too, and he takes to them with gusto - they learn never to Triple Dog Dare Thor to do anything. Uncle is never uttered, although sometimes furniture is broken. Lamps seem especially endangered around the trio, and track lighting is eventually installed. Tony sits in the puffy chair off to the side and glowers._

_He always tries to get to bed at a decent hour, the better to get up early for his morning run. He was perpetually cold as a child, but now he never seems to feel the chill in the night (that's probably at least partially due to the mansion's central heat). He sleeps in boxers and little else, usually forgoing blankets as well. He just grabs a pillow and drapes himself catty-cornered across the bed (it's just a tiny bit short) and drops into sleep. Sometimes, he thinks Tony comes and stands in his doorway and stares at him, but that's probably just a dream._

Bruce's birthday party gets a little out of control. It was meant to be some wine and cake and maybe a couple of movies, but Natasha brings some truly excellent vodka and Thor brings mead and Clint brings moonshine, and where the hell did he get moonshine anyway? And, well, things get out of hand.

 

Now Clint and Natasha are on the roof doing handstands and cartwheels. Steve would be worried, but they're staying away from the edge, and he'd talked Clint out of shooting arrows at Nat as she did back flips. Clint wouldn't have hit her, but somebody would have to pick up all those arrows in the backyard come morning. Thor is there as well, on the phone with Jane, and she's trying to talk him out of coming to see her right now as he insists he needs to do. Bruce has given up on all of them and disappeared, probably to meditate or possibly to check the real estate listings for one-bedroom apartments that might be able to accommodate the Other Guy.

 

Steve isn't drunk, but he'd never convince a policeman of that fact since he's wearing Clint's last drink. There's no way anyone already drunk needs a Big Gulp cup full of moonshine and a splash of citrus soda. Clint had disagreed, and so didn't let go when Steve tried to take it away. He'd looked pretty sad as he watched his drink drip off Steve, but then Nat had come by, walking on her hands, and he had followed her, leaving Steve holding the crumpled cup and trying to wipe the alcohol out of his eyes.

 

Steve walks into the kitchen and throws the cup away. When he turns away from the bin, he's surprised to see Tony sitting on the counter, drinking scotch and watching him by the pale light coming from the small fixture over the sink. 

 

"Tony! What are you doing?"

 

Tony smiles and lifts his drink. "Celebrating." He considers Steve. "Is it raining?" He takes an exaggerated sniff. "Is it raining lighter fluid?"

 

Steve glares at him and then strips off his shirt, using it to wipe at his face and torso. "Blame the hillbilly sniper. He can't hold his liquor. Literally."

 

Tony finishes his drink and wipes his mouth, eyes never leaving Steve. He puts the glass on the counter and jumps off. Walking toward Steve, he shakes his head a little. "You just don't have any shame at all, do you?"

 

Steve cocks his head at Tony as he uses his shirt to wipe at his ear. "Well, I'm not exactly proud to be covered in this stuff, but it's better that I wear it than let Clint drink--"

 

Tony lunges at Steve, surprising him into throwing himself backward. He ends up pressed to the wall, bracketed by Tony's arms. "What the hell?"

 

Tony smirks at him. "Shut up, Steve. Just shut up. You're always trying to get my attention and now you have it, so drop the oblivious act."

 

Steve can see Tony's face, but he can't make out his eyes. Tony can see him a lot better than he can see Tony. There's the dim light over the sink behind him, and the glow of the arc reactor under his black wife-beater, but while Steve can see his teeth, bared in what might be a smile, there's not enough light to make out his eyes, so he can't really tell if Tony's laughing at him or not.

 

He starts to push off the wall. "Look, Tony--"

 

Tony smacks both hands against the wall. "Don't! Don't do that! Don't play innocent!"

 

Steve falls back against the wall. "Okay, Tony. Sorry. I'm Sorry. Tell me what I'm doing, and I'll stop."

 

"And don't patronize me either." Tony leans back a little, looks down Steve's torso. "The way you slink around this place." He sighs and drops his gaze even lower. "You are a walking, talking wet dream."

 

Steve presses back against the wall. "Tony?"

 

"Oh, don't try to tell me you don't know what you're doing. I'm sure people were fucking in the forties." There are those teeth again. "Oh my God, are you blushing? That is adorable. Tell me." Tony leans in, rising up on his toes, close to Steve's ear. "Does it go all the way down?"

 

Steve swallows past the lump that's suddenly in his throat, speaks, though the whisper full of gravel that comes out isn't what he intends, "Tony, you're drunk."

 

Tony leans back again and laughs. "Yes, I am. I do a lot of my best work drunk." His voice drops a little. "And you're sober, but you aren't pushing me away, are you?"

 

"I don't want to hurt you." Is that Steve's voice? It sounds wrong.

 

Tony laughs again. "That is great. I like that. You're protecting me. That's classic, but it's also not the truth. That's no way for Captain America to behave. Lying is wrong." He looks down at Steve's crotch and there's that wolfy smile again. "You could sell it a little better if you weren't hard. You're not pushing me away because you want to be right where you are, and you want to know what's going to happen next."

 

Steve waits, but Tony just stares at him. Oh God, he's going to have to ask. "What's going to happen?"

 

"Well, Steve, lots of things could happen. I could kiss you, and you should know that I kiss dirty. I don't just use this tongue to talk. I could lick all that alcohol off you. Work my way down to where it's soaked into your jeans and suck it out of the fabric. Looks like it's mostly right there over your dick. That could be interesting, right?"

 

Steve twitches, but he supposes it could be taken as a nod. Tony seems to think so.

 

"Yeah, very interesting, even more interesting once I get your pants open and pushed down your thighs." He pauses and looks at Steve's hand, which has dropped his shirt and is moving toward his crotch. "Stop that. Hands are to remain against the wall."

 

Steve makes fists and hits the wall. He doesn't respond, bites his lip instead and waits for Tony to continue.

 

"My God, you're pretty. Do you even know how much?" He shakes his head. "Getting off track. Where was I? Oh yes, I was just about to grab your cock."

 

Steve makes a noise in the back of his throat.

 

"Patience, Steve, I'm getting there. Now, I'm betting you're leaking by now, so I'll get that all over my hand before I start stroking you. You're big, right? So maybe I need both hands. I'll probably leave them both on there when I put my mouth on you."

 

Steve keens and closes his eyes. It's just too much. He's rocking his hips, but the only thing he's getting any friction against is his zipper, and, fuck, that _hurts_ , but he can't stop, needs something against his aching dick even if it's metal teeth.

 

"That's right, just sink to my knees right here in front of you. I like to be thorough, so I'm going to lick all the way down your cock and down around your balls before I start sucking you. Oh, Steve, I am going to suck you so hard. I'm going to fucking swallow you. I have practically no gag reflex at all, and it's a damn good thing because you are not going to able to resist grabbing my hair and fucking my face."

 

Steve's eyes are still closed, but he can feel Tony's breath on his neck. He's so close, so excruciatingly close...

 

"I'm going to let you, Steve. I'm going to let you thrust into my mouth like a goddamn piston. Tears are going to be running down my face, but I'm not going to resist at all. I'm actually going to be kind of disappointed when you stop, but that won't last long because you're going to get down in the floor with me and strip my pants off and pull me into your lap. You'll be so wet still that you'll just slide right into my ass, Steve."

 

Steve's breathing hard and his hips are still making circles. He's rubbing himself raw against his zipper, pretty sure he's bloody now. He's so sensitive he can feel the air between Tony and himself, like a thick, warm blanket, can almost feel Tony. Almost. He opens his eyes and looks right into Tony's. He still can't read the expression there.

 

Tony rises back up on his toes, talking right into Steve's ear. "I'm going to ride you right here in the floor. Finally going to get my hand on my own dick, too, and you're going to watch me jack myself off while I ride you like a goddamn pony, and the whole time I'm going to be telling you how much I love it. I'm going to tell you in detail just how big you are and how much it hurts and how good it feels. You're going to see me come all over myself. I'll probably spurt all the way to my chin. I won't stop though. I'll keep going. Until. You. Just. Pop."

 

Steve can't take it. He goes off like the Fourth of July, coming in his pants and if they were soaked before now they're sodden. He can't keep his legs any more and slides to the floor, still trembling. He looks up to Tony, still leaning against the wall, looming over him.

 

"Well, that was fun." Tony pushes off the wall and retrieves his glass from the counter. "I need a drink. Anything for you, Cap?" He walks out of the kitchen heading for the sitting room with the bar without waiting for an answer.

 

Steve stays on the floor for a few minutes, staring into the darkness after him, then he gets up to go take a shower.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Been a long time since I've written anything, but, for whatever reason, this just came out of my brain.


End file.
